


I promised you better, but this is all I have

by Elisexyz



Series: Mental Health Whump Timeless Challenge [5]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Isn't Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fighting, Future Fic, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-27 18:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18744973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Parenting is full of challenges, and marriage is full of fights. Sometimes it can get a little out of hand, though.





	I promised you better, but this is all I have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissCrazyWriter321](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/gifts).



> This was written for the prompt "Change" in the [Mental Health Whump Challenge by newisalwaysbetter](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/184648324764/mental-health-whump).  
>    
>  A while back, I messaged Caitlyn about her Garcy as parents headcanons, which basically consist of Lucy being the "lax" parent, because she's too terrified at the thought of being controlling and suffocating like her mother (which I wholeheartedly agree with), and of Flynn being the strict one, because after losing one child he isn't going to risk another for any reason (which I had honestly never thought of, but hell _yes_ ), and we started building a little around that.  
>  ...I knew that that plot bunny would come back to bite me in the ass eventually LOL.

It’s a fight like many others.

Lucy supposes that fighting about how to parent your kids is normal, healthy even, the only problem is that she and Garcia— well, they’ve always been very good at pushing each other’s buttons. That’s why their fights generally get abruptly cut off by one of them walking out, declaring that they don’t want to do this right now, before things can truly blow up in their faces.

Generally. Not this time.

The twins are already asleep in their room, and Lucy has spent the last ten minutes watching Garcia tensely wash the dishes, waiting for him to spew it out already.

When he’s done but he still has his back turned on her, she decides that she’s done suffering for the night.

“Come on, say it,” she prompts, crossing her arms and feeling every muscle in her body tense in anticipation.

Garcia waits for a moment before turning around, eyebrows raised and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Say what?” he asks, gruffly.

Lucy rolls her eyes. “That you are upset. Come on, it’s clear as day.”

He snorts. “Upset,” he mumbles, turning with his full body so that he can face her better. “Upset? Of course I’m upset! Why _wouldn’t_ I be upset?”

 _If you were a little less paranoid, you probably wouldn’t be_ , she almost says. She bites her tongue just in time.

“It was just a couple of hours,” she says, calmly, but it’s clear from the fury that suddenly appears on his face that there is no way this is going to be a calm discussion.

“At a _stranger’s_ house,” he stresses, like she’s missing the obvious point.

“She isn’t a _stranger_ ,” she immediately counters.

She knows Melanie, she sees her every day out of school, they have talked a few times. She seems like a perfectly good person, her daughter is just lovely. There are absolutely no red flags, and today was the little girl’s _birthday_ , she just is too shy to want an actual party, so Melanie invited Amy and Maria over for the afternoon, to play.

Lucy had a bunch of errands to run, and she was supposed to drag her daughters with her, but when they looked at her with huge, pleading eyes, she couldn’t find it in her to deprive them of some fun with their friend only to condemn them to a whole lot of boredom.

She knew Garcia would be livid, but it was just a couple of hours, really, she and Melanie exchanged numbers, and Lucy went to her house as soon as she was done.

Amy and Maria had fun, Lucy did what she had to do in probably less time than she would have otherwise, everybody wins. So what’s the _problem_?

“Seeing a woman outside of school for five minutes every day _doesn’t_ mean she isn’t a stranger,” Garcia counters, drily. “She could be _anybody_.”

“She’s just a _mom_ ,” Lucy says, exasperated, her voice raising a little.

If it were for him, they’d run background checks and stalk for days anybody that has to get within ten feet of their daughters. And sometimes, she’s totally on board with it, like when they spent ages choosing the school because deciding who gets to spend half the day watching over their kids is no piece of cake, but this is an exaggeration.

“Garcia, listen,” she tries, her tone gentler. “You can’t be like this. You are too controlling.” She can see his expression shifting like when he’s about to argue, so she’s quick to add: “They are _kids_. They need to—to _explore_ , okay?”

She isn’t going to be responsible for trapping their children in little boxes.

He snorts. “One thing is letting them explore, _another_ is being reckless with their _safety_ , Lucy,” he says, pointedly, and Lucy’s breath catches in her throat.

“ _Excuse_ me?” she lets out, her voice quivering a little. “Are you _seriously_ saying I’m _reckless_? Because I let them have _fun_ —”

“You never say no!” he bursts out, gesturing widely with his arms. “ _Ever_. Anything they want it’s always ‘Yes, sweetie, of course’. You are their _mother_!”

She opens her mouth, struggling to find the words as her stomach twists on itself at the hit. “Just because I’m not _paranoid_ , it doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to be a _mother_ ,” she eventually spits out.

“No, you are not paranoid, but you _are_ too insecure, _and_ too afraid that they won’t love you anymore if you say no even _one fucking time_ ,” he accuses, mercilessly, and Lucy has the clear feeling that she’s just been sucker punched. It almost feels like she’s supposed to sway on her feet.

Instead, anger flares up in her chest as her eyes start stinging, his words burned in her brain so clearly that she can almost _see_ them on a big screen in front of her, and her voice trembles around the edges when she gets out: “And what exactly makes you think that you always know so much better, uh?”

She knows what, and she doesn’t let him say it.

“Is it because you did this before? Is that it?” she prompts, and although she registers the shift in his expression, the only thing that she’s truly paying any attention to is the blood pulsing in her ears and the tears pushing to get out, barely held back by she doesn’t even know what, so her mouth keeps going. “Because we both know how _that_ turned out.”

For a moment, he only seems stunned that she said that. Then, his expression turns to anger, but it only lasts a moment before he shifts to such a deep hurt that Lucy’s stomach falls to her knees.

“I’m going out,” he declares, walking past her without even looking at her in the eye.

Lucy vaguely registers the twitch in her legs, urging her to go after him, but she stays were she is, staggering a little and holding onto the table behind her for support, unsure if she’s more shaken up by what _he_ said or by what _she_ threw at him in return.

Iris. Now _that’s_ a low blow. She has never— that isn’t something that she thought she’d ever bring up like that, solely to hurt him, even less so after she had children of her own and understood a little more.

 _You are too insecure, you never say no_ —

“Mommy?”

She turns around so fast that she probably cricks her neck, gaping like a fish for a few moments when she finds Maria standing by the door, looking at her with huge eyes as she strangles her stuffed Stitch.

“Hey, sweetie,” she finally manages to say. Her eyes are burning like hell, which is the only thing that gives her the presence of mind to try and wipe her face as casually as possible – it’s wet, there are tears everywhere, _shit_ – as she approaches Maria. They weren’t being that loud, they were supposed to be _asleep_ — but if Amy sleeps like a rock, Maria even stirs if Lucy walks into the room to close the window, so perhaps this isn’t so surprising. “Is everything okay?” she asks, gently, kneeling down in front of her and smiling as reassuringly as she can.

Maria purses her lips, hesitating and glancing behind herself. “Where did Daddy go?”

 _Shit_ , she saw that. Lucy can only hope that the _only_ thing that she saw or heard was Garcia storming off.

“Just to take a walk,” she assures, trying to widen her smile a little.

Maria looks unconvinced. “It’s dark,” she protests, a note of worry in her voice.

“Well, we both know that your dad is _not_ afraid of the dark,” Lucy points out, knowingly. “He’ll be fine.”

“He’s angry,” she replies, her voice thin as she brings her Stitch a little closer to her chin. She looks so _small_ , and Lucy’s stomach twists on itself. Before she can open her mouth to try and reassure her, though, Maria adds, quickly: “I’m sorry.”

Lucy frowns, confused. “About what?”

Maria shifts a little on her feet, her eyes getting glassier and glassier as the seconds go by. Lucy immediately reaches for her, pulling her into a hug to let her know that she’s there, she isn’t alone and everything is going to be fine.

“The cookie,” Maria finally blurts out, her lips quivering as she pulls away a little. “Amy cried and—and now you and Daddy are angry too—” She falters, tears rolling down her cheeks as Lucy’s brain struggles to understand.

When it clicks, she almost wants to laugh, if it weren’t that seeing her kids helplessly cry like that always makes her want to throw up.

“Maria, honey, no—no, that has nothing to do with this— oh, sweetie, come here,” she finally gets out, pulling her into a tight hug, probably suffocating poor Stitch between the two of them. Maria holds tightly onto her neck, sniffling against her shoulder, and Lucy is at least a little glad that she doesn’t understand.

After dinner, Maria ate the last cookie in the jar – which Lucy _could_ have refilled today, if anyone had bothered to tell her that they were running out –, and since she also ate the last one the last time, Amy burst into a very betrayed and frustrated crying fit at the injustice.

Apparently, Maria thinks that that is the very same thing that’s upsetting her and Garcia right now.

“It’s not about the cookie, honey,” Lucy clarifies, rubbing her back comfortingly and feeling the knot in her stomach ease a little as Maria leans more into her, welcoming her touch and hopefully feeling like it helps. “Sometimes—sometimes Mom and Dad fight, you know? It happens, it’s okay, we’ll make up.” She pauses, trying to find the right words. “But it’s not your fault,” she adds, because that’s the most important part. “It’s never your fault, okay?”

“So Daddy’s coming back?” Maria mumbles, her voice a little muffled as her cheek is pressed against Lucy’s shoulder.

“Soon,” she assures. “Very soon. It’s like—like when you fight with your sister, and you go to the bathroom because you don’t want to see her.” Maria does have the habit of holing up under the sink. When Garcia is the one to go and get her his spinal cord doesn’t really thank him, because he systematically tries to join her and it just isn’t physically possible. “Eventually you always make peace, right? It’s not forever, just for a little while.”

“Okay,” Maria mutters. “I understand.”

Lucy draws a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. How about we go to bed then?” she says, trying to make it sound light. “I promise Daddy will be there when you wake up.”

Maria nods, not easing her hold one bit, and Lucy resolves to just carrying her up the stairs.

 

After she has put her daughter back to sleep, Amy not even realizing she was ever there, bless her heart, Lucy makes herself a cup of tea, to calm her nerves, she briefly contemplates just going out, trying to find Garcia – she rules it out a second later, because she isn’t going to leave Amy and Maria at home alone –, she takes out her phone with every intention of calling him, not immediately realizing that his is still on the table, and eventually she just settles for holing up on the couch, a blanket wrapped tightly around her and the TV on as an attempt at distracting herself.

It’s only mildly successful.

She isn’t sure when exactly she dozed off in spite of everything, but she is suddenly woken up by a firm hand on her shoulder and a curt: “Lucy.”

She blinks, a little disoriented: it doesn’t feel like a minute has passed since she last was awake, but although it’s still dark, the movie has changed and Garcia is now standing in front of her, leaning forward to wake her up.

“You should go to bed,” he only says, pulling away as she just keeps staring. She knows that he doesn’t intend to follow.

“Wait, wait,” she quickly says, wrestling out of the blanket trap that she built and ignoring the sharp pain in her neck at the too sudden movement – at least he still loves her enough to stop her from spending the whole night sleeping in that position, she’d probably be a wreck in the morning – so that she can get up and stop him from leaving.

He turns to her, raising his eyebrows with calculatedly neutral expectancy.

“I think we should talk,” she says, quietly, straightening her back when she realizes that she was slouching.

“Can’t it wait until morning?” he replies, and it’s a little sharp, but more promising than expected.

She somehow finds it in her cross her arms and raise her eyebrows. “Are you trying to tell me that you have _any_ intention of sleeping?”

For a second, the ghost of a smile appears on his face. “Point,” he concedes.

They go back to the kitchen, because sitting at the table somehow makes it feel like they are doing _more_ to work with the problem.

“Maria saw you leave,” Lucy gets out, when they are both sitting and avoiding each other’s eyes as the silence drags out.

Garcia’s head snaps up and his whole face falls. “What?” he asks, his voice thin.

“I don’t think she saw much else,” she quickly adds. “And I handled it, she knows it was just a little fight, and that it had nothing to do with her.”

He rubs his face with both hands. “Shit,” he mutters, guilt clearly plastered all over his expression.

Lucy swallows. “I’m sorry,” she says, resisting the urge to lock her eyes on her hands, as she flexes her fingers on her lap. “I’m really, really sorry— what I said—”

He clenches his jaw, and she can tell that right now he’d probably prefer it if she dropped the subject, but she doesn’t want this to eat at him because she failed to apologize.

“I didn’t mean it,” she clarifies. “I was angry, and defensive, and— I wanted to hurt you, I guess.”

“Mission accomplished,” he mutters, looking away for a moment.

Lucy swallows something thick, nodding. “I know. I’m sorry.” She draws in a sharp breath. “That wasn’t your fault, you _know_ I don’t think it was, right? There was nothing you could have done—”

“Yeah, I know,” he interrupts, but it isn’t unkind, at least. “I’m sorry too,” he adds then, his tone growing softer.

Lucy knows that she’s the one who crossed the biggest line, but hearing it makes her feel a little bit better nonetheless.

She sighs, hiding her face behind her hands and leaning on the table with her elbows. “What are we doing?” she mutters, unsure if he can even hear.

You’d think that after fighting a _war_ through _time_ the worst of it would be gone, and yet there she sits, thinking that everything was a lot simpler back when they were fighting Rittenhouse. They’d sit on the same shitty bed, drinking and talking or just plain talking, and there would be no need to worry about screwing up two beautiful little girls just because they don’t have their shit together.

(In her defence, she _really_ thought they could do it. One day she found out she was expecting, and she looked at her life and at her relationship and her happiness and she thought that she could pull it off, she thought she could be a mother, and a _good_ one, if she just tried hard enough— yeah, right.)

“We can’t go on like this,” she adds, louder, emerging from under her hands.

He nods, taking a deep breath. “No, I agree.” A pause. “What do we do?”

Talking it out would probably be a good idea, but she’s too afraid that it’d eventually lead to another ugly fight. While she was waiting for him to come back, trying very hard not to _think_ , she remembered something Wyatt said, about his marriage, and it didn’t seem like such a bad idea, maybe.

“Wyatt mentioned something,” she gets out, a little hesitantly. Garcia raises his eyebrows at her, silently prompting her to elaborate. “He said— he told me that therapy helped him a lot, him and Jessica,” she quickly explains, shrugging. “Maybe—maybe it could help us too.”

“Therapy,” he repeats, a note of scepticism in his voice. “Are you sure? I mean, isn’t it— a little too much?”

She swallows. “I never thought I’d say to you what I said today, Garcia,” she can only say. “And it scares me that I did.” He silently looks at her, his gaze hardening a little at the still open wound, and Lucy is quick to add: “And Maria saw us. The outcome, at least. I—I think we need to solve this, the right way.”

He draws in a sharp breath, but he nods. “Yeah, okay,” he finally says. “I’m in.”

Lucy can’t help sighing in relief: they are still far from done, they are going to need to find a therapist and a time that works for _both_ of them and for the kids, but it’s a plan, it’s something concrete, a step in the right direction and a glimmer of hope that they can make it through this.

Silence drags out for a few moments too long, and Lucy eventually asks, her voice thin as she braces for rejection: “Should we go to bed?”

If he wants to take the couch tonight, she’ll understand, but she’s still hoping he won’t. His words hurt her too, she can still feel them burning under her skin, but the last thing she wants is to be alone.

He contemplates her for a moment, his expression neutral, but eventually he nods. “Yeah. Let’s.”

A small smile makes its way onto her lips: things aren’t that broken, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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